


The pain is worth it

by Simbanrat



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Dark, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Minor Violence, Not Happy, Sad, Self-Harm, Short One Shot, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 21:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30078675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simbanrat/pseuds/Simbanrat
Summary: Life always has a way of kicking you when you’re down. For Ben it was literal and for the most part, self inflicted.Rated M for general feelings of crappiness and self harm, not for smut stuff, sorry. TW.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	The pain is worth it

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t my usual type of story, but I’m feeling a bit blah and I’m taking it out on poor Ben I’m afraid. 🙈.

Life always has a way of kicking you when you’re down. For Ben it was literal and for the most part, self inflicted.

Provoking others into attacking him became a sport, his own self worth and feelings of inadequacy the cause. He wasn’t one of those to lock himself away in a room, boo hoo-ing to himself while taking a knife to his leg. No, he was much more proactive, wanting the pain but feeling like it needed to be dished out by someone else.

Someone once said to him that it was a way to self harm, and he could see their point. Whenever he flirted outrageously with a homophobic arsehole, purposely winding him up so he’d end up laying Ben out in the street, it felt good. He had so much going on in his mind that the pain helped to silence it. Each thump to his face a way to forget about the voice telling him he was a fuck up.

He learnt from an early age that violence helped to control his feelings, that pain was a medicine to help deal with things. It wasn’t self inflicted back then, more readily given to him without him wanting nor asking for it, but the result was the same.

Starting with the violence at home from his father and then step mum, the bullies at school and the boys at the young offenders, it all brought about the remedy to the way he was feeling without realising it. He was so angry all the time, angry at life and himself that when he wound up a stranger and they lashed out at him, it was a surprise how much better he felt afterwards.

When he went to prison it was the only thing he could do to get through the hell of his life. He constantly went up against the top dog when he felt like he needed something, a kicking here or there helped to clear his mind and he felt ok again for another week or two. At least until the noise got too great again and he went straight back to ‘Big George’, questioning his masculinity and accusing him of fancying him to get what he wanted.

He ended up in the infirmary a lot, the prison governor constantly asking him if he was being bullied or did he need some help. Every single time he told them to fuck off, he was fine and didn’t need anything. Then a week later he showed up with a broken arm and he’d be questioned again, the same routine over and over until his release day.

He hoped he’d feel better when he got out of prison, that maybe being back out in the world would help his head, but it didn’t. He got home to find out he’d been replaced, that there was a better and more suitable guy for his dad to fawn over and pretend was his real son. So he took himself off to the pub, drinking heavily and starting a fight, feeling much better when he stumbled home with a black eye and a pounding head.

It was how his life was for the next year or so, he made peace with his replacement and even became close to him. The voice in his head got quieter but was still there, occasionally speaking up and causing him to start a fight, but as time went on it happened less and less. Until he met a guy.

He ended up in an abusive relationship, albeit briefly. When he realised who Luke really was and what he meant to his family he got shot of him. Hurting himself was one thing, but he’d never stay with a man whose family and existence brought pain to his mum. The hands around the throat didn’t bother him, but the sadness in his mum’s eyes brought an end to it.

Of course it didn’t help his feelings of self worth, that someone could only be interested in him as some weird revenge plan and not because of him. So he went back back to what he knew, feeling the release as a fist connected with his stomach or elbow in his ribs.

Then he met Paul and he was happy, the voice almost completely disappeared and he didn’t feel the urge to hurt himself. It only lasted so long though and through a terrible act of brutality they were attacked, Ben managed to get away but his love died and with it, a little piece of himself. After that he needed to feel the pain more often than he used to. The mental pain of that night a constant in his life, needing to be matched by physical pain too.

His family questioned why he was always getting in fights but he couldn’t explain it. What would they say, that it was dumb and stupid, that it didn’t make sense, that he was crazy? Nah, as far as they needed to know he was just spoiling for a fight and was a hot head.

He lived his life provoking people into hitting him and he was doing ok. The voices were kept at bay and the occasional act of violence was doing its job. He’d even managed to get Callum to hit him, a closet case if ever he’d seen one and it was the perfect button to press to get the other man to thump him one. The relief he felt afterwards was great and it held him for a few weeks.

But the anniversary of Paul’s death was fast approaching, and while he could survive with a fight every month or so usually, the frequency started to ramp up and he wanted nothing more than to be beaten to a pulp. The guilt of not being there to save his boyfriend became overwhelming and he spent night after night self destructing.

The more he drank and got into fights the worse he felt though. Normally it would help him, but now it was making him worse. Violence lead to more violence but he was still feeling empty and angry inside. The voice in his head telling him constantly that he’s to blame, he killed Paul and nobody would ever love him again.

He needed something more, more than a thump or a kick, he needed something that hurt more, that would be louder in his head than his own dark self. He didn’t know what though but as he walked home one night it occurred to him. The throbbing on his cheek from a punch in a nightclub was making his eye twitch, but he saw the bridge in the distance.

His alcohol fogged mind lead him to the stairs at the bottom and he took them one by one, climbing upwards until he reached the top. He walked into the middle and looked down. The ground seemed a long way away and he wondered what it would feel like to fall through the air, how clear his mind would feel as his body hurtled towards the ground.

He reached out to touch the side, intending to climb up onto it but then his phone rang and he jumped back, the sound interrupting his dark thoughts. It was from the mother of his kid, asking where he was cos his little girl was waiting for her bedtime story. He shook his head and backed away from the side and quickly walked back down the stairs and headed home.

It wasn’t something he had ever considered before, when he got into fights he was hurting nobody but himself, but that… that was going to hurt other people and that was something he didn’t want to happen. It was finally the turning point that he knew he couldn’t ignore the voices any longer. The more he was trying to silence them, the louder they were getting. He needed help.

Sometime down the line he was doing better, the counselling was helping and he was engaged to the closet case if you would believe it. Now and then he still heard a voice. With Callum’s help though he knew that the way to silence it wasn’t with pain but rather it was with love.


End file.
